Havoc Drabbles
by fireun
Summary: cause the sniper needs more attention!
1. first drabble!

_Disclaimer - i own no part of fma or any of it characters. just messing with them._

_alright then. a separate bit of the drabble world just for Havoc. since the other ones are getting unwieldy and i dont think anyone will notice if Havoc wanders off and does his own...-fireun_

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First things first- make sure pack of cigs is secure in pocket...check. Verify that there are enough matches…check. Step two, straighten uniform to meet obsessive standards. Excellent. Attempt to brush back rakishly attractive, rebellious hair…good as can be expected. Glance in mirror…Well, hullo there, Jean. Aren't you looking fantastic today?

"If you are looking for the car keys I moved them."

Twitch. What a way to break the moment…

"Where the hell are they now?"

"On a separate hook next to the coats at the door."

Moving stuff already…that was never a good sign…

"I made you some lunch."

"What are we, married?!"

Cain Fury poked his cheery face out into the hall. "I am just trying to be helpful! You always lose your car keys and you never eat a good lunch."

"I am not a puppy!"

Fury walked out into the hall, stopped next to an irritated Havoc, pecked a kiss on the taller mans cheek and smiled. "You look nice today."

Damn it was all but impossible to stay upset with him…

"Now go to work. I am sure Mustang is getting impatient." Fury turned back towards the kitchen.

"Don't _you_ have work as well?"

"Yes, but I will be a few minutes late. Just want to get dinner started."

"Housewife."

"JEAN!"


	2. second drabble!

_on with the adventures of Havoc! late for class or i would write an actual note in here. and reply to reviews. will reply on next drabble-fireun_

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There were some things a man just had to do. No matter how distasteful or life threatening, a true man would just take a deep breath and move forward. It was no different that taking a bullet for Mustang on the battlefield or following the man against impossible odds. In fact, Mustang would definitely approve of and support the sortie Havoc currently was engaged in. Yes. That was the encouragement he needed! That extra little bit that allowed him to detach enough from the current situation and move forward even though self-preservation and experience screamed at him to run the fuck away.

Havoc glanced up at Tammy, at her beaming, happy expression, and took a deep breath. Successfully summoning a return smile that only resembled a death grimace a little, he lifted his fork. He ignored the smell of meat and vegetable that didn't waft off of the food so much as waft up off of the morsel of food so much as belch up in the same way various swamp gasses escaped into the atmosphere. Instead of a pleasant harmony of scents it was every separate smell screaming for attention, and apparently fighting with its neighbor. He must stay strong. He must…

He moved the fork into his mouth, closed his teeth on the silverware, and pulled the bit of Tammy's homemade strew free to be chewed in such a way as to have the food come in as little contact with actual taste buds as possible, all the while smiling happily and making the appropriate appreciative noises.

Tammy threw her arms around his seated form, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I am so glad you like it Jean!"

Sometimes, a man had to eat the inept cooking of a woman. Especially if he wanted her to stay the night.


	3. third drabble!

_clawing my way through all the valentines requests. should ahve them done by the end of tomorrow. too tired to respond to all of the love. will after i get home from work and post more drabble-y goodness-fireun_

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First dates were a bitch. First dates that fell on a holiday were the worst. There were arcane expectations, which were not only irrational, but _impossible_ as well. There were things a guy just didn't think to do when he was prepping for the First Date.

It was a good thing Jean Havoc was a sort of expert on first dates (which was not at all meant how that ass of a colonel usually pointed it out. Jean just managed to attract many women, but deigned to keep few. He was picky, not desperate. Not at all…)

A quick check to make sure tonight's dates name was written on the inside of his matchbook (just in case…), and he was off to pick up Vivian, roses and chocolates under one arm, smile spread liberally over his usually sardonic features.

False start- scramble back to the apartment, double check exactly which exclusive restaurant Maes managed to snag him reservations at last minute (did _everyone_ in Central owe that man a favor!) and then attempt to leave one more time.

It always felt good to drive a military owned car up to a woman's house, and take her to a restaurant you booked forty-five minutes ago in a blatant use of military clout, and watch her be impressed. Hell, if you couldn't use the uniform to pick up chicks it wasn't worth all the actual work.


	4. fourth drabble! now with royai!

"It's too tight!"

"Well, I could let you leave looking like a slob if you want. That is a sure way to impress the lady."

"Your sarcasm is as repulsive as that damn cigarette smoke. Stop breathing on me!"

"Alright. Let me give Hughes a call. He'll be _more_ than happy to help you out here…"

"Go near that payphone over there Second Lieutenant and I will incinerate you."

"And have to drive yourself home? I think not." Havoc made one last adjustment to Mustang's tie then finally backed off, satisfied with his work. "Now, you are presentable, sir."

"Don't use honorifics only when convenient." Mustang grumbled, fighting the urge to reach up and work his tie a bit loose, knowing it would only end in Havoc fussing with him even more. "Who made you mother today anyway?"

"Like I said, sir, me or Hughes. It's your call." Havoc leaned back against the car, enjoying the unique perspective of the situation. For once it was he who had Mustang cornered.

And damn it felt good…

He jumped, slamming the small of his back into the handle of the passenger side door, as someone chose that moment to exit the apartment they were loitering outside of. It took Havoc a good long minute and a bout of furious blinking to recognize the woman approaching them as First Lieutenant Hawkeye.

He couldn't be blamed really. One didn't exactly place elegant dresses and Riza Hawkeye in the same train of thought normally. Trying to do so took a certain amount of mental maneuvering, and Hawkeye wasn't allowing the boys time to compensate. She made her way down from the front door towards Mustang, not appearing at all bothered by her ornate looking footwear, complete with heels. She strode confidently up to Mustang, who was doing a fair job of appearing nonplussed, and readjusted his tie.

Mustang shot a victorious glare at Havoc. "I told you it was too tight."

"Actually it was a bit loose, sir." Hawkeye provided helpfully, a small grin pulling at the corners of a usually stern mouth.

Havoc was sure his eyes were as wide as the ones on that damn owl Fury insisted on keeping. He stared as Hawkeye casually linked one arm with Mustang, diffusing his temper with a sweet smile. Amazed, Havoc noticed Hawkeye leaned into Mustang a bit as they walked off together towards whatever restaurant it was that Mustang had commandeered for an elegant dinner that evening.

"Well, that's enough sugar for one evening." Havoc pulled a cigarette from his pocket with practiced ease, folding himself back into the driver's seat of his car.


End file.
